


Expectations

by thatluckyrabbit



Category: Casper (1995)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatluckyrabbit/pseuds/thatluckyrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because who could ever love a dead man?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Getting back into this fandom, wanted to write something about Stretch again and my lovely and brilliant girlfriend gave me this idea :D Thank you lovely girlfriend of mine! X3 
> 
> This may be short, but I wanted to write something XD

 

Well, he _should_ have expected _this_ outcome. 

  
However, he didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did.  
  
He was a ghost, an actual dead man walking, and the human, a living and breathing man, living under the same roof was a fleshie. He should have _known_ this wouldn't work out. He was a stupid, naïve fool to think that the human would return his affections, or even feel the same way.

He was an idiot for having such high expectations.   
  
Sure, James Harvey was nice and polite when he told Stretch that, while it was flattering, he just didn't feel the same way. Normally Stretch would have shrugged it off, pretended not to care, and for a moment he was able to pull off the façade, but it was only in a short amount of time. He could feel himself breaking on the inside, and he just wanted James to leave him alone so he wouldn't see the outcome.  
  
When James finally and politely left him, the ghost crumbled in a heap of heartbreak and despair, cheeks red from shame, feeling foolish for having admitted something so personal, and feeling so... so  _weak_ for crying over a human male that didn't even feel the same way for him. That he _knew_ wouldn't feel the same way, yet had hopes that maybe it could work out.

 _Of course I was wrong. I shoulda known... shoulda known..._  
  
He needed a drink. He wanted to leave this place, his home of nearly a century, go to his favorite bar and drink away the ache in his chest—a pain so fresh that nothing could compare to it. Not even the sensation of dying, something he could clearly remember with as much vivid detail as anything he ever felt. He would have rather died all over again than to feel _this_ pain. It was horrible, and it hurt, and nothing could stop the tears spilling from his eyes or the sobs that threatened to escape his throat before they came out in deep, anguished gasps for breaths that he didn't even need.  
  
It hurt because this was the first time he'd genuinely liked someone back. No... not _like_. Like didn't even begin to describe how he felt about James Harvey. It had only been a year since the fleshie and his daughter had moved into Whipstaff, but it didn't take long for Stretch to fall for him. And he fell hard; so hard that he felt confident that the fleshie would like him back, could _love_ him back, or at the least give him a chance.  
  
Hugging his knees close to his chest, Stretch gave a bitter smile between his tears.  
  
 _Who could ever love a dead man?_


End file.
